Will Nate still be my little boy?

I don't know what it's going to be like in heaven. I'm scared that Nate won't be my little boy anymore. My love for him is for my little baby boy I used to carry and chase around the couch. Things might be so different in heaven that my perspective here has no meaning, but just as I can't bear the thought of Nate being totally gone, I can't bear the thought of not expressing my love for my little boy.

May I leave? My brain's full....

One of my favorite "Far Side" cartoons...This boy is in school, and he says something to the effect of "Miss Johnson, may I leave? My brain is full".
I feel like that sometimes. There's just so much to be concerned about, not necessarily worrying about, just concerned. I'm concerned about (not necessarily in priority order) Ani's condition and her future, our house being built and the finances, Mom's condition, the ongoing grief over the loss of Nate.
Sometimes it feels like my brain is full, or at least at 100% processor utilization (hey, I'm a geek, that's my language). I find myself sighing, or kinda moving along like a robot. Sometimes it happens while I'm driving, and I'm on autopilot, I shake myself up so that I can assert more concentration so that I'm driving more safely.
See, I don't know what it really means to "give it to God", whatever that's supposed to mean. I have earthly responsibilities and I must fulfill them, so understandably they occupy my mind. I suppose what it really means is more along the lines of trust, or releasing the paralyzing worry factor. I think about the "Be still, and know that I am God", and how to live that. Maybe it's really kind of like "Do your job, I'm with you, don't worry yourself to death". I find that many of these things are understandable in a rational sense, but become very difficult when you are in a deep emotional well.

Too much

Too much, oh God, too much,
I'm needed, so I can't just shut down.
Roller coasters are fine for amusement,
but not for us flawed emotional beings.
Again, I feel like the ocean buoy,
sometimes above the water,
sometimes submerged.
Gasping, I come up,
to hear Ani laugh,
to see Mom shake her head.
God, keep me afloat.

Compelling

I suddenly feel compelled to create a photo album of Nate. I'm using iPhoto, and it has this cool feature to set up an album really quickly. It's very hard and emotional. However, one thing that's so wonderful to see is that at least 90% of the pictures have Nate smiling. He was a happy boy here on earth. I want my album to be somewhat representational of my love for him, and it will probably show.

The enormity..

Sometimes, the enormity of what has happened hits me, and I just feel exhausted. I know that I can't live in the past, but it saddens me so much to see simple pictures of Ani when she was much younger, even a baby, and she could do so much more than she can right now when she's 5. I want my baby to be able to play again, I want her to sing again, I even want her to be naughty again.

Shadows

The sun is shining,
and still, there are shadows.
Shadows of doubt and uncertainty that I didn't have before.
They catch me, and I stumble.
There's a light that's missing now,
a light that took away my shadows.
Oh, you parents, open your eyes.
See your children for what they are,
not what they do or say.
They are beacons of love in this world.
If you allow yourselves to see their light,
it will outshine all the fires of mischief they may start.
Their light brightens your way too,
don't think that they're the only ones getting something from this relationship.